Fucked with his rhythm, penetrated with his rhythm, all she could do was join in. She began to bounce on him, her cunt sliding up and down its weighty intruder. He reached up to grasp her right breast, taking the reins of her, discouraging excess motion with sharp squeezes, holding her to the rhythm he set by dragging her along with her captured tit. Ivy felt the spasms erupting within her body like seeds taking root. She pounced on him even more brutally, slamming her cunt down on his cock, feeling the impact in her clit. Her heart hammered within her chest. Her blood caught fire. She was so light, so light, the lightness that would lead to the thick, leaden pleasure of the afterglow...
The phone on Bruce's nearby work desk rang, jerking Ivy back to reality. She blinked with surprise, feeling unmoored when Bruce's attention shifted from her to look at the caller ID. She expected him to dismiss it. Instead, he rose up from the waist—gently slipping from Paige's sleepy embrace of him, and drew Ivy's calves forward, pushing her feet around to his back. Then he pivoted on his ass, dropping his feet to the floor to stand up. Ivy tightened her legs automatically, staring at him in bewilderment.
With her still impaled on his cock, he walked to the desk, each step jostling his tool inside her. She hugged him tightly, partly from the precariousness of her position—partly from the pleasure. At the phone, he wrapped an arm around the small of her back, stopping her from leaning back to sit on the desk like she tried to do. She pressed her heels against the base of his back, digging them in to pull herself hard against his cock.
"Hello?" Bruce said into the phone, seemingly blissfully ignorant of Ivy rocking against him. "Rufus, hi, thanks for getting back to me so quickly. Yes, the offer was serious..."
Nestling the phone against his shoulder, he sat back against the edge of the desk. His hands clasped her hips, holding her to an easy rhythm. He pulled her closer to him as he thrust; pushed her back as he pulled away. She instinctively tried to keep from moaning as he fucked her.
"Paige is very interested in getting back to work. It's very late here and she's in bed, but we were thinking something not too intensive, some kind of charity gig to warm her back up..."
Bruce pushed and pulled, pulled and thrust, showing no more attention to Ivy than if he were doing the dishes. Somehow, his lack of affect just made Ivy burn hotter. She grabbed at his back, trying to force a faster, harder fuck, but his hands tightened on her waist. He held her firmly in place, his cock motionless inside her, as he listened to the phone.
Please
, Ivy mouthed.
I'll be quiet!
"Yes, that sounds very interesting. Fiji, you say? What can you tell me about the conditions there? She can be a tad fragile, and I'd hate to exacerbate anything she's struggling with." Off Ivy's desperation, he arched his hips back and forth to thrust into her. Smiling and listening again to the other end of the conversation.
Ivy kept grinding herself against Bruce even as he got on his knees and lowered her to the carpet. She only had a moment's warning from him shoving down to the ground, rough enough to feel the hardwood underneath, and then he slammed his cock into her trembling body. She let out a light, high-pitched squeal.
Again, Bruce punished Ivy by withholding her pleasure. "Oh, sorry, one of the dogs," he explained into the phone. It beeped and he held it away from his ear a moment to check the text message he'd just received. Ivy got a glimpse of it—it looked like just a meaningless string of letter and numbers.
He put the phone back to his ear, put his hand over Ivy's mouth, holding her in place that way as he thrust into her. She thrashed wildly on the floor, arms and legs flailing against the carpet, the legs of the desk beside them, Bruce's body. But nothing she could do could affect his performance, make him either slow down or speed up. She could only purr and coo in ecstasy against his hand.
"That sounds great," Bruce said into the mouthpiece. "I was also hoping to find her an agent, or some kind of manager. I'm afraid I'm a little lost in that department, so if you could e-mail me a few suggestions—people who aren't total maniacs, you know... Yeah, I'd appreciate it. Take your time, we've got all night.
He felt her cunt warming against his cock, felt Ivy tense herself, gasp, clench on his manhood. He didn't ease up for even a moment. He kept himself buried inside her, pumping into her without ever fully withdrawing. It drove her wild, bouncing on the floor and into him as if trying to unseat him, roll over atop him, or more likely get him to respond more forcefully. Her fingernails raked up and down his back, but he ignored them, ignored the smart slapping of her inner thighs against him, ignored the juices that his cock pulled away from her wet cunt with every withdrawal. He squeezed her left breast, feeling her heart racing madly beneath it. She was getting hotter and hotter, her skin flushing as red as it had once been green.
"Okay, I'll get Paige to call you in the morning. Thanks again. Bye," Bruce said, and hung up. Then took his hand away.
Ivy screamed and twitched under Bruce, coming for him. He'd timed it just right. Her clit flared—the heat in her cunt became a flash fire burning through her body. He fucked her right through her climax, keeping up the pace until she screamed herself hoarse. Then he grounded himself in her, holding her groin tightly to his as he twisted his cock inside her. Her mind and body joined in pleasure that erased all other thought, all other feeling. She floated at the peak of her climax, barely aware of his cock spurting thickly, seed gushing into her trembling cunt.
Ivy's mouth fell open in a silent moan as he removed himself from her impassioned sex. Her eyes closed and her head dropped back. Dimly, she was aware that they were moving—Bruce had hoisted her up once more—and then she was being laid down upon his bed, beside the huddled up Calendar Girl. Her long legs hung loosely over the side.
Now just one little kiss and he'd be her slave, fucking her to death... his death. If only she could move...
Bruce, however, was picking up a robe from a hanger on the closet. "That was Bi magazine. They think they can swing a pictorial with Paige, a brief interview about how we met, why so many villainesses seem to be bisexual, that sort of thing." He wrapped the robe around himself. "I just have to shoot off a few e-mails to get confirmation."
"But Bruce—" Ivy tried to make herself pose as appealingly as possible while still panting for breath. "Don't you have something else to shoot off?"
"Business before pleasure," Bruce said apologetically. "But I'm sure Paige is in a mood to celebrate, if you're going unentertained."
"Celebrate..." Paige muttered, pulling close to Ivy, her lips pursed.
"Wait—" Ivy started to say, but it was too late. Paige's lips brushed against her own, her little stimulant instantly working its way into the Calendar Girl's system.
Bruce waved goodbye jauntily as he left the room, Paige already climbing on top of Ivy. "Something about you just turns me on all of a sudden, Isley..."
"Tetrahexenodraten," Ivy explained impatiently. "And he's getting away! Get off—"
But Paige was already parting her legs and bowing her head to Ivy's sex, giving Pam a brand-new example of how wonderful a woman's tongue could be.
"Get off..." Ivy said again, weaker this time, and Paige rubbed her thighs together as she resolved to make Ivy do just that.
